Meet the Diaspora: Nadina Abdurahmanovic

Where I’m From: Brcko, Bosnia and Herzegovina

Current Hometown: Macomb, Michigan

Favorite Balkan Song: Hard to choose, but anything by Dino Merlin

Favorite Balkan Dish: I have a huge sweet tooth so any of the classics – Sampita, Nutma, baklava.

1. Can you start off by telling us a little bit more about yourself? Where are you originally from and where are you currently living?

My name is Nadina Abdurahmanovic. I’m originally from Brcko, and currently living in the suburbs of Detroit with my husband, Muamer, who I actually met back in middle school in Hamtramck. I’m working as an RN in labor and delivery. My husband is an engineer at Chrysler and we have two kids, Ela (6) and Aden (4), who we are raising to be proud of their Bosnian heritage. Ela will be in second grade and she loves telling her classmates that she is Bosnian and celebrates Bajram! After hearing your Zbog Tebe story and the passing of my father, I felt even more inspired to open up and share my story on this platform. 

2. What are some of your earliest memories and first-hand experiences of the war?

There was rumor of war spreading across Bosnia, but no one actually believed it. We lived our lives normally as we did each day. My mom was making my favorite hot pudding for dessert. She was missing a few ingredients for her dinner that night, so my dad ran out to grab them. My sister and I were playing in the living room and watching my mom pour the hot pudding into little glass bowls with excitement.

Moments later, my dad stormed into the house and told my mom to pack what she can that we had to flee right away. He had seen large tanks full of soldiers already patrolling the streets of our city. We headed south to my grandma’s house within what felt like minutes. Once we arrived at my grandma’s, the bombing began. That night we heard the firing closer and closer as we sat huddled in my grandma’s basement.

A few days later, two large trucks came and they were only taking women and children in an effort to rescue them. My mom didn’t know what to do. She was scared, especially with two small girls, and didn’t want to leave my dad. My dad gave her no choice and put us in the truck. He squeezed us tight and said everything will be ok, we will be together again soon.

3. What was it like living as a refugee, being separated from your dad, and leaving everything that you knew behind?

We arrived at a refugee camp in a safe zone a few days later after being sent off on the truck. I celebrated my 5th birthday there and spent 6 months sleeping on a cot with my mom and sister in a small tent. We then got refuge in Switzerland. On the train ride there, I asked my mom if daddy would be meeting us there. She didn’t answer my question — she just held me tighter.

We spent two years there and were given an opportunity to come to America as refugees of war. My mom’s aunt heard where we were and was able to sponsor us. We came to America, and my new life began. My mom still had no idea of my dad’s whereabouts. She would occasionally hear word from my grandma about his well-being. Yet, for the most part, we never knew if he was safe or not. We watched the headlines of the war settling down on the news, and each time they showed images of the war grounds, we looked at the crowds of soldiers and civilians hoping we would spot my dad.

Then one afternoon, I came home from school and the phone rang. It was my grandma calling, she was still in Bosnia and had someone that needed to speak to my mom. My mom fell to her knees. It had been nearly 4 years and on the other end was my dad.

He was alive. It was finally becoming safe and we could be together. A week later, she applied for him to come to America and we packed our bags and were on a plane back to Bosnia. I was excited and nervous at the same time. My memories of my dad were still there but I was afraid that I wouldn’t know him. We arrived in Bosnia and my dad was waiting for us at the airport. He held us tight, as we all cried. I looked up at him and it was like we were never apart. My fear of not knowing him instantly went away.

Once my dad got his papers to come to America (about 6 months later), we came back together as a family. Mom and dad worked many jobs in factories and cleaning homes to give us everything we needed to succeed. We were so grateful to be safe and to be together again. My sister and I both became registered nurses. My dad was so proud he told everyone who would listen about his girls.

3. When did you learn about the severity of your dad’s health and how did you cope with everything?

One day he came home from work and started to stumble. His speech was slurring and he lost his balance and fell into a door. My mom called me in a panic and as an RN my only words to her were to get him to a hospital now. We met them in the ER and he was rushed into a CT scanner right away. There it was, a very large tumor compressing his brain. We later learned it was a glioblastoma.

He had 14 months to live. He fought hard and lived for 18 months. In his last days, he told me his stories of the war. Stories I was too afraid to ask him about since he suffered from severe PTSD from them. I learned he spent over a year in a concentration camp. He was beaten daily and forced to dig graves for mass murders that were happening. He said he never cared if he survived knowing that we were safe was all that mattered to him. I spent every single day of those 18 months next to him and as he took his last breath I held his hand and told him everything will be ok. We will be together again one day.

4. What would you say to anyone out there who is dealing with grief? How did you cope with it on a daily basis? Have you found different ways to celebrate your dad’s life?

I would tell anyone who has lost someone very close to them, that it’s OK to talk about how you feel. In our culture sometimes we are taught to keep things to ourselves. I’ve coped with losing my dad by sharing his story and talking about him with my children. My kids both have a stuffed animal they sleep with that was from their “djed Nihad.” My son has his factory uniform shirt, which he proudly worked at for many years to support our dreams, framed in his bedroom. It warms my heart to be surrounded by the memory of him.

5. How do you believe that we (as diaspora) can continue to keep our culture alive for generations to come?

Like Emina’s stories encourage — Our Stories do Matter. I’ve taken the opportunity to share my story as much as I can. I remember writing a paper in high school about where I’m from. I was researching online about the Bosnian war and stumbled on some YouTube videos. Pictures of soldiers and bombings were flashing by when a familiar face came along. I paused the video and called my dad. He looked at the image and teared up. He told me he remembered that day, a few reporters came out to the area he was patrolling and were taking pictures of them. He never thought he would see these images. I emailed the video creator and he sent me the image and said he was from Sweden and found it in some Swedish forums. You never know where sharing your story may get you. 

6. Anything else you’d like to share with our audience?

Most of us have overcome so much to be safe and together. Cherish your time with your families. After spending years away from my dad and then losing him so soon, I’d give anything to have more time.

Instagram: @nadinaa21